


Drabble Collection

by scarletsptember



Category: Fright Night (2011), Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Hawaii Five-0 (2010), Luther (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Supernatural, Teen Wolf (TV), The Hunger Games (Movies), Twilight Series - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - College/University, Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Character Death, Crossover, Fluff, Gen, M/M, Medication, Singing, Vampires
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-03-04
Updated: 2016-01-20
Packaged: 2018-01-14 12:22:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 19
Words: 12,891
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1266385
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scarletsptember/pseuds/scarletsptember
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is  collection of short, drabble like fictions that have been posted in other avenues, under my many usernames and they have finally have made it here. Warnings will be added, included with each chapter.</p>
<p>Each chapter is different story, has different situations and different characters.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Gone Fish (Teen Wolf/Supernatural)

**Author's Note:**

> Written in response to a comment_fic prompt over at LJ by tigriswolf.  
> Stiles and Death play a game.

Stiles glanced down at the cards in his hands. He plucked a park of nines from his hand and set them face down on the table in front of him. He waited for Death to take his turn. He kept his lips sealed as he waited. 

“You know this is probably the quietest that any of my companions have ever been.” Death commented absently as he fanned out the cards in his hands, eyeing his cards far more closely than a simple game of Go Fish should allow. “Most babble away at how they don’t deserve to die, not now. They promise that they’ll do more with their lives, make a difference, if I just give them more time.”

Stiles moistened his lips in anticipation of what Death was going to say next.   
“Do you have a three?”

Stiles handed the card over wordlessly as he watched Death make the pair and set it down in front of his self. 

“But you are different. You talked nearly nonstop when you were conscious but now you can’t seem to open your mouth. Almost as if you’re too busy calculating how to win a game that was already stacked in my favor.” Death glanced up to meet Stiles’ eyes. “Any Jacks?” 

Stiles shook his head no before looking down at his cards once more. “The odds have never been in my favor. Any twos?”

Death smirked before shaking his head negative. “We’re cut from the same cloth, you and I. Always fighting a losing battle. That’s what got us here.”

Stiles raised a brow, wanting to point out that Death wasn’t on the losing side any longer. Whenever death comes calling, there was no escaping his grasp.

“A King?”

Stiles passed the card over and waited for what was to come next. He had lost the game. Death had gotten both King pairs. 

“Is there anything that you would like to request before I send you on your way?” Death asked Stiles. 

“If you can, can you watch out for my family?” Stiles asked softly. 

“You’re father?” He questioned. 

“He’s not my only family.” Stiles smiled sadly across the dark table at Death. 

Death nodded sagely, “And that is precisely why you are different from the rest of them. In your last moments you don’t fight for yourself, you fight for everyone else.”  
“I’m already dead aren’t I?” Stiles chuckled.

“I met two other men just as brave and reckless as you. They were brothers who were willing to give up their lives to protect the world. I particularly enjoyed the company of the elder brother. He enjoyed pizza just as much as I do.” Death absently drifted into the memory. He shook himself out of his mind before reached across the table, his fingers out stretched to press against the center of Stiles’ forehead. “It wasn’t their time to go when I met them over and over, and it’s not your time either Stiles. I believe you still have work to do.”

Stiles looked down at the cards that fluttered face up. He had two King pairs and two Ace pairs. He had won against death. He looked up, gasping against the sharp, stabbing pain in his chest. 

“Until next time Stiles.” Death smirked as he pressed icy cold fingertips against Stiles’ forehead. Death gathered the matched cards up into a single deck and shook his head. “Let’s hope he never meets the Winchesters.”

Stiles woke with the echoes of the word Winchesters in his ears and surrounded by nurses and doctors. The remnants of a dream that no one would believe lingering in his mind.


	2. It was Predestined (Teen Wolf)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Written in response to a prompt by Tigriswolf over at Comment_fic on LJ - The first and last - Stiles + Scott, their very first meeting and the last time they see each other (Stiles bleeds out in Scott's arms, but Scott himself isn't conscious enough to give him the bite - and by the time he heals, Stiles is gone. And it's how Stiles always knew he'd die, anyway. Saving Scott's life. There's no other way he wanted to go.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Character Death is included in this chapter

There are things that a person just knows, as if the predestined events were etched into your DNA as soon as you were created. No one, not even you, knows what’s going to happen of if it’ll even happen until one precise moment. You’re entire life changes and there is nothing you can do to stop it from happening.

As soon as Stiles met Scott he knew that his life was forever altered. They didn’t meet like everyone at school had assumed they had. Stiles remembered walking down the toy aisle of the supermarket and being bowled over by someone chasing a yellow ball. As soon as Stiles hit the floor and bit his tongue so hard, the yellow ball had been forgotten. He wasn’t the only one who forgot about the rogue ball. 

“Don’t move! You’re bleeding!” 

Stiles looked up, frozen from his spot on the floor. The boy was his age and his hand were wiping at the blood on Stiles’ chin. “My mom works at the hospital. She can fix you.”

Stiles smiled up at him, “My dad’s the sheriff. He won’t arrest you for hurting me. I won’t let him.”

Scott’s lip trembled in fear. “You promise?”

Stiles wrapped an arm around Scott’s shoulder and grinned, “It’s my job to protect you.”

When their parents found them Stiles had grabbed a box of crayons and they were coloring side by side on an oversized coloring book. 

That was the memory that Stiles focused on as Scott held his shaking body tight. Stiles’ face pressed in Scott’s stomach and his cheek resting on Scott’s blood soaked jeans. It was his blood that seeped through denim and to skin. He and Scott weren’t meant to be separated. He had known that since the moment Scott ran over him in the supermarket. He was going to die here.

He could feel the muscles in Scott’s body relax and Stiles knew there was no coming back. The warmth from Scott’s slumped form did nothing to calm the chill reaching out from bone and vein until it reached his heart. Stiles died doing the one thing he promised Scott all those years ago. He protected Scott and he’d fight until he knew for sure that Scott was going to make it. He raised his hand, laying an open palm over the wound on Scott’s stomach, the gaping hole that had once been there had started to shrink. He could feel the energy that always seemed to be pulsing under the werewolf’s skin return with vigor.

It was going to be okay. They won. Scott was still alive. He didn’t have to keep fighting. Not any longer. Scott was finally safe.


	3. The Hunter (Teen Wolf/Fright Night)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Written in response to a prompt over at comment_fic over at LJ - Requested Teen Wolf/Fright Night, Jerry/Stiles

Stiles had felt a set of eyes on his back for most of the night. It probably meant the man had been watching him far longer than Stiles would like to admit to not knowing about but it was the first time someone had actually looked at him like they wanted to eat him and not in the good kind of way. IT was pure luck that Stiles had been prepared for more than a night in a club full of gyrating bodies, drugs and sex. No he was working. He never got a night off anymore. 

He made his way off the dance floor, out of the club and towards the back alley way. If he was going to end up killing a monster, Stiles didn’t need any witnesses. He pulled at the ceremonial knife he had used to kill a twisted version of a ghoul crossbred with a nymph earlier in the night out of his pocket. He unclasped the sheath and let it fall to the ground, the knife held upside down in his hand, the blade resting against the tender skin of his forearm in hopes of hiding it just a few minutes longer.

“I would have thought you would have someone waiting out here for you but you’re all alone. That doesn’t make sense. You’re too handsome to be out here alone.”

The voice sent shivers down Stiles’ spine. If the guy had any ounce of humanity left in him, Stiles might pretend he didn’t recognize the supernatural signature swirling around him in dark hues. Stiles turned his head to look over his shoulder at the guy before fully turning around to face him. “Maybe I knew you would follow me out here.”

He moved far faster than Stiles had anticipated. His back hit the brick wall of the club and air rushed from his lungs as he looked into the deadly black eyes. “Why would you want me to follow you out here after the night you’ve had.”

Stiles instinctively tilted his head back as the man leaned in, brushing his nose against stiles’ throat inhaling as much of Stiles’ scent as he could. Stiles felt a prick of pain at the base of his throat and let out a groan. “If I didn’t know your intentions I would totally be turned on by that move you pulled right there.”

“What do you know of my intentions?”

“That they aren’t the best and they aren’t even close to dismally in my favor.” 

Stiles watched as his lips stretched into a sensual grin. A hint of fang peeked out from between those lips. Lips that were perfected for teasing, kissing, tasting and eating people. Get it together Stiles. 

“Believe me,” those lips were pressing against the base of Stiles’ throat once again. “I have the worst intentions towards you little hunter. It wasn’t until I got your scent that I realized my intentions may have shifted just a bit.”

Stiles didn’t have much time to respond before those lips were pressing against his. The soft touch turned to aggression, a game of take, take, take and not giving an inch to Stiles. The back of Stiles’ head was scratching against the brick, his hands were curled in what Stiles was assuming a vampire’s shirt and his legs spread just enough for a knee to be applying just the right amount of pressure to border between too good and not good enough. 

Stiles turned his head in a gasping breath, “So instead of eating me, like the vampire you are, this is your plan?”

“It’s far better than my original plan, don’t you think?” The vampire tugged at the buckle on Stiles’ belt, getting it free as he unclasped the button moving his hand between denim and boxer, then boxer and skin. 

“Fucking vampires,” Stiles grunted out as he tried unbutton the vampire’s pants in front of him. Four buttons to undo and no zipper. 

“The name’s Jerry.” The vampire supplied in a breathy moan as Stiles’ cupped him for a brief moment. 

“You can call me hunter,” Stiles answered as his knife clattered to the ground and Jerry spun him to face the brick wall. 

“Cheeky.” Jerry answered. “Maybe I won’t eat you when we’re finished.”


	4. The Hunted

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Written in response from a comment_fic prompt, user requesting Teen Wolf/Fright Night, Stiles/Jerry

He could feel the kid stalking him. Jerry felt those light amber eyes on his back the moment he showed up in Beacon Hills, he just couldn’t quit pinpoint where the boy was. Every time he had gotten close, could taste Stiles because he was that close, all scent would disappear and he’d be back on the chase. 

Jungle was hot, full of writhing bodies and somewhere in the tangle of humans Jeff knew that Stiles was somewhere here and he was going to get what he had come for. He slipped in between the hands reaching out to tease and entice him. He had no mind for them. He was focused on one person and he had finally found him. 

Stiles was pressed knee to chest against a taller, darker haired man, their groins rocking against each other’s in time with the bass line. Stiles knew he was here. If that cocky upwards curl of his lips were anything to go by and the way he tilted his head back, just enough to tease. 

Jerry wasted no time. He slipped his hands along Stiles’ hips and tugged him back. Stiles’ companion cocked a brow as if he were asking if this were okay before he flashed his eyes a brilliant red. The surge of adrenaline that rushed through his body at the thought of being able to take Stiles away from an alpha, knowing that his prey was more familiar with the supernatural made his blood sing in anticipation. He couldn’t resist tasting the skin at the hollow of Stiles’ throat. He smirked at the low groan emitted from Stiles’ lips. 

“Didn’t expect to see you here,” Stiles uttered as he rocked his hips tightly against Jerry’s. 

“Didn’t expect to be here,” Jerry admitted as he dragged his lips up the milky column of Stile’s throat and hesitated just above Stiles’ open mouth. “But I can’t seem to get enough of you yet little hunter.”


	5. Gifts (Teen Wolf)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A little look into Erica's human life after she was turned into a werewolf.

Erica stared at the orange pill bottle sitting on her desk. Her entire life revolved around those pills for so long, she didn’t know what to do now that she didn’t have to take them. She should be experiencing withdrawal symptoms but there was nothing. It was like she had never had epilepsy and had never taken the medication in the first place. 

There was still twelve days’ worth of medication that she hadn’t taken. She hadn’t needed to take. How was she supposed to explain this to her mom? Her mom might not be around that often because of work but she noticed the important things about her kid, especially when it came to things like her epilepsy. She made sure Erica took her medication and took it like she was supposed, the same time in the morning and the same time in the evening. No variations because they didn’t want to risk a seizure.

Grabbing the pill bottle tightly in her fist, Erica strode from her room with one person in mind. Scott McCall. They weren’t friends by any means and Scott owed her nothing but he was the only one who might have an answer for her. The walk was short. Not like Scott would have ever realized it until now but they were practically neighbors. She cut through the Davis’s lawn and stopped on the porch of Scott’s place, knocking heavily against the door. 

When the door opened, Scott immediately slammed it in her face, “What do you want?”

Erica ran her hand through her hair before clearing her throat and answering, “I need to talk to you.”

“About what?” Scott asked through the door.

Resisting the urge to force the door open herself, Erica answered him, “It’s a little personal for me to spout off about it on your front porch when the neighbors are watching.”  
Scott opened the door hesitantly before allowing Erica to slip through the doorway and into the living room, “My Mom’s upstairs, just so you know.”

Erica rolled her eyes, “Believe it or not, I’m not here to hurt you and I’m not here for Derek’s evil plans either.”

Scott folded his arms across his chest not giving her an inch, “Then what other reason could you be here for? We don’t exactly get along and your grades are about the same as mine so I don’t see us sharing notes and being study buddies.”

“You used to be a pretty bad asthmatic? Right?” Erica gripped the bottle of pills she had tucked into her jacket waiting for Scott’s answer. 

Scott tilted his head in confusion, “Why are you asking me this?”

Erica tossed her pill bottle at Scott, who caught it without a thought. He studied the label and the realization of what she was asking dawned on him. “So what did you do when you suddenly didn’t need your inhaler anymore? It’s not like my Mom is going to believe I was magically healed. Epilepsy isn’t like that. It’s a ride or die kind of thing.”

Scott handed her the bottle back and bit on his lip, “Look, I can’t tell you what you want to hear. I don’t have the answers for you.”

Erica narrowed her eyes, “It’s not a hard concept to grasp McCall. What did you do when you stopped using your inhaler, so your mom wouldn’t find out you wolf out when you get pissed someone’s touching Allison.”

“I do not wolf out when people touch Allison.” Scott ground out from between his teeth.

“Sure you don’t,” Erica rolled her eyes, “Just answer the question. Please?”

“It’s really that important to you?” Scott questioned and the huff of frustration Erica gave him his answer. “It’s not the greatest idea I’ve ever had but she doesn’t worry.”  
“You going to tell me any time soon?” 

“I do use them,” Scott answered slowly, “Just not the way directed.”

Erica furrowed her brows, “What?”

“Look, I empty the canister over a couple of weeks and ask for a new prescription.” Scott ducked his head down, ashamed of what he was doing. 

“You make your mother pay for medication you don’t take,” Erica smacked him hard on the shoulder, “You idiot.”

“You try explaining to your mom why you don’t need to take your epilepsy medication. See how she takes you saying you’re a werewolf. You think she overreacts to epilepsy? Just imagine what she’s going to do when she thinks you’ve gone crazy!” Scott smacked a hand over his mouth and looked upstairs hoping his mom didn’t catch any of that. “If you have a better idea, clue me in. This whole thing sucks but I can’t think of anything else.”

Erica took a deep breath before turning to leave, “Thanks for all the help McCall, maybe I should have just went to Derek in the first place.”

“He isn’t going to have any better ideas,” Scott yelled through the door after Erica slammed it. 

She was fuming by the time she made it to Derek’s lair. It was the only thing she could think of it after Stiles mentioned it felt like a madman’s lair. She stopped short of the broken down subway car before she turned slowly around. She grinned at Derek, “Hello Alpha.”

“What do you want?” Derek asked as he walked passed her. 

“I need your help,” Erica answered honestly. It caused Derek to flinch before he turned to face her. “I don’t know what to do.”

“It would be good if I knew what you were talking about in the first place.” Derek crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back against the entry way to the car.  
“My medication,” Erica answered softly, “My mom can’t know about this, so what am I supposed to do about my medication.”

Derek stared at her for a few moments before he answered, “What did Scott tell you?”

“Are you serious?” Erica felt everything in her deflate. She wasn’t going to get an easy go to answer. 

Derek nodded, “I can smell him on you so I know you went to talk to him, most likely about the same thing because he deals with the same situation. So what did Scott tell you?”  
Erica rubbed her eyes with the heels of her palms before turning to leave. There was no magic answer to this. For something that was supposed to be considered a gift, it didn’t feel like one. It felt like everything was two times as difficult because she had to lie to everyone. 

She flinched when Derek grabbed her arm, “Don’t walk away from me when I ask you a question.”

Erica looked from his white knuckled grip to his face, “He said to pretend like I was taking it. She’d never find out.”

Derek released her arm, “What’s so bad about that?”

“Do you know how much my medication costs?” Erica snarled, “Even with insurance it’s a fortune. I can’t do that to my Mom. We need the extra money.”

“You can’t tell her, you know that.” 

Erica nodded, “I know.”

“Listen to Scott,” The statement looked like it pained Derek to say it, “He has good ideas every once in a while. It’s your best option at the moment.”

With a grim smile Erica left Derek staring at her. As much as this excursion helped her figure things out, she needed to be home before her mother got there. She didn’t need to be grounded on top of being a werewolf. Unlike the rest of the pack she had rules that she had to abide by. 

Erica had barely set her keys on the key rack before her Mom was bursting through the door with her arms laden with groceries. She moved to help bring in the rest. By the time they had unloaded everything Erica looked up at her frazzled mother, “Did you remember my meds?”

“Did I remember your meds?” Her mom repeated with an eye roll before she dug into her purse and tossed the prescription at her. “You think I’d forget when you’re running low?”

Erica ignored the knots twisting tighter in her stomach as she forced a smile, “No.”

“And why’s that?” Her mom teased. 

Erica chuckled, “Because you love me.”

“That’s right,” She nodded, “Now get those pork chops out of the fridge, I need to get started on dinner.”

Erica watched as her mother puttered around in the kitchen for a few minutes before heading to the bathroom. She popped open the old pill bottle and dumped them into the toilet and flushed them. She tossed the bottle in the trash before taking the other one to her room. She looked at her reminder taped to the mirror that reminded her to take her pills before she let out an angry growl. She crumpled it up and tossed it in the trash. Slamming the new bottle of pills on the dresser she looked up to see her reflection. Her eyes had grown amber and her teeth elongated. Taking a deep breath she reminded herself that this was a gift. No matter how hard things got or how much she had to lie. This was a gift.


	6. Bending Spoons (Teen Wolf/Supernatural)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Teen Wolf/Supernatural Crossover featuring Stiles and Missouri.

“You stare at that spoon any harder it might actually bend.”

Stiles spun around in the booth he was seated in to see a woman sitting nearly back to back with him in her own booth, concentrating on stirring the coffee in front of her. Stiles blinked and went back to staring at his spoon. He had a lot to think about, well a lot to figure out. There were way too many werewolves vying for the great Derek Hale’s attention now that they handled the alpha pack mess without gathering outside packs to do so. 

Stiles vaguely registered the sounds of faux leather seat squeak that happened whenever anyone slid out from a cheap restaurant booth before the same voice was chuckling at him from across his own booth. 

“I told you that you would bend that spoon.” 

Stiles met the amused gaze before looking down at the spoon in his hand that was in fact bent almost in half. “I did not do that. I mean with my mind I mean. I did that with my hands. Nervous habit you know.”

“I recognize a spark when I see one and you are definitely a spark.” 

Stiles pressed back against his seat and shook his head, “I don’t know who you are lady and I have no clue what you’re talking about.”

She reached across the table to shake Stiles’ hand with a coy smile on her lips. “My name is Missouri and I have heard all about you Stiles Stilinski, the boy who ran with wolves and lived to tell the tale.”

“There are no wolves native to California.” Stiles answered. 

“Just like there are no such things as werewolves, druids, hunters, ghosts and psychics. Yet here we are in a world full of them. We’re just two sparks that were sent in to completely different directions. You were sent to the wolves and me to the hunters.” Missouri replied. 

“Okay I’ll bite.” Stiles picked up his soda and took a large gulp from the straw. “How do you know who I am and what is the point of all this talk?”

“I’m here to serve as a warning to you and your pack.”

Stiles reached for the blunt knife on the table and gripped it tightly in his hand. “What kind of warning.”

“The warning that you are going to soon have to do the things you think you can not do.” Missouri’s voice was soft and her eyes had started to tear up. “You’ve already been through so much it breaks my heart to know what is to come. I’ve got two boys who are just like you. Two boys who would give anything and everything for the family they’ve made for themselves. It breaks my heart to know that you’ll be traveling the same path as they will.”

“Missouri,” Stiles reached out as he watched bright brown eyes start to glaze over. The moment his skin touched hers she jolted in her seat. She placed her hand to her chest and gave Stiles a small smile. 

“Sometimes I get lost in my own head.” 

Stiles watched as she stood up and moved back to her own booth as if they hadn’t just spent the past five minutes in vague, Deaton-like conversation.


	7. Never the Groom (Teen Wolf)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles is always sitting on the sidelines watching his friends get the happy endings but maybe he isn't as alone as he thought he was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stiles/Derek

He should be happy. Really he should Scott just married the love of his life and also the mother to his soon to be were-baby. Honestly he is happy for his friend. It’s just getting a little ridiculous that he’s been the best man at how many weddings? Scotts, Jackson’s, Boyd’s and even Isaac’s. 

He didn’t even know Boyd was dating someone much less wanted to get married. Jackson, well he and Lydia made a big deal about it. Isaac let Erica handle everything because he wasn’t that insane. But what he didn’t understand was why he was always asked to be the best man. Sure he was awesome at planning bachelor’s parties. He knew how to make sure everyone stayed on track and they actually had the right sized suits and the ring for the wedding. He was good at that, he just didn’t understand why they all wanted him, of all people, to be the best man. 

And maybe he was a little tired of just being the best man. Maybe he wanted to be the person celebrating the new beginnings of his life with someone he loved. Like that would ever happen, but a guy can hope right?

“Weddings are supposed to be joyous events,” Derek grunted as he sat next to Stiles and handed Stiles a fresh beer, “So why are you moping over here?”

Stiles shrugged, “I love you guys to death, seriously, I’d put my life on the line to save yours kind of love, but I’m sick of always being the best man. It’s a little depressing always coming to weddings alone.”

Derek cocked his head to the side, “Which wedding have you been alone at?”

“Jackson’s, Boyd’s, Isaac’s, Scott’s, even my Dad’s,” Stiles spouted off, “To name a few.”

Derek shook his head, “So what am I?”

Stiles’ mouth dropped open and his cheeks reddened with embarrassment, “I don’t know.”

“Well,” Derek stood up and reached for Stiles’ hand and pulled him towards the dance floor, “I suppose it’s time for you to wake up and find out, isn’t it?”

Stiles looked up at Derek and smiled, “I guess it is.”


	8. The Choice (Harry Potter)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Room of Requirement was different and this time Harry wasn't leaving without making a choice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was no doubt a comment_fic prompt but I can not remember what or when it was prompted. It's vague but I always liked it when I stumbled across it in my fic folder.

The Room of Requirement had always done what Harry had asked it to do upon entering. Tonight was different. The room was cold. It was filled with shadows and soft blips of light that didn’t do anything other than enhance that shadows dancing before Harry’s eyes. 

“If something offered you the choice to save your parents or to destroy Voldemort upon your first meeting, what would you choose?”

Harry spun around at the sound of the voice trying to locate whoever was whispering in his ear. 

He jerked when he felt the heat of the words upon the back of his neck, “Your parents or your friends?”

Harry backed up until he had pressed himself against a wall. He pressed his hands flat against the wall as he watched the shadows dance back and forth as they toyed with him. 

“Come on Harry,” The voice drawled, “What’s your decision?”

Harry licked his lips, “Who are you?”

There was a husky chuckle before the shadow had leapt from one corner of the room to the one directly adjacent from Harry. He could see the shadow almost tilt its head in consideration before answering, “The one who is giving you the choice to change history, to change the course of your life.”

Harry took a step forwards and his eyes widened as he watched the shadow shrink before him, “Why?”

Harry’s eyes darted back and forth before he finally placed the shadow again. It was as far away as it could get from Harry and still be seen. 

“One event changes everything. One moment can bring them back. It can bring back all the people you lost. It can bring back the people that you never thought could be saved. An opportunity like this doesn’t happen often. Once in hundreds of years does this chance appear. Your parents or Voldemort?”

“What if I said neither?” Harry asked and the shadow threw its head back in laughter. 

“Once you entered this room, once you acknowledged my presence the choice of doing nothing was taken out of your hands. Your parents or Voldemort? The only way to leave is to pick.”

Harry felt a cold grip of fingers ghosting around his shoulders rising up to his neck. Warm, lavender scented breath brushed against his face, “Your parents or Voldemort. You’re running out of time.”

Harry couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t catch his breath. His eyes darted back and forth trying to figure out where this thing was and how it was hurting him so easily. 

“Them or him? It’s simple Harry.” The grip grew tighter and the voice louder, “Just pick!”

He let himself think of all the possibilities of each choice. If he chose his parents, they could still die. Choosing them didn’t guarantee their survival to the end. He didn’t know what was worse, not knowing them at all or getting to know them and losing them all over again. Voldemort, the war would be over. There wouldn’t be so many deaths. The Weasleys wouldn’t have lost so much. Hogwarts would be safe and students wouldn’t die. 

The grip grew tighter and Harry could feel the heat of his aching heart beating across his skin. 

“Your parents or him?”

Black dots danced in his vision and his lips, fingers and toes tingled so badly it felt like he was being attacked by ants. 

“Just pick one Harry.”

He was on his way to dying, he knew it. If he didn’t choose what would happen then? Would he be the only one punished? Or would everything change anyways? Why did this come down to his decision. He wasn’t the only person who was fighting this war. There were so many other people who could make a better choice. 

He felt his body slipping against the damp floor as he answered, “Him.”


	9. Another Brother (Grimm/Supernatural)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Winchester blood was spread far and wide.

When Sam found out about Nick Burkhardt he didn’t say anything to Dean about it. There wasn’t a point to get Dean’s hopes up again. He knew that Nick was a cop, that he was involved with a woman and he lived a normal life. As normal of a life anyone with Winchester blood could live. 

He did keep tabs on the man. There wasn’t a doubt that Nick would get elbow deep into some kind of supernatural war like all Winchesters did whether they liked it or not. And he did. Nick was different from a hunter. He knew what he was looking at, he knew what these people were capable of. So Sam researched. Nick wasn’t a normal human. His birth mother was a witch and well, Dad was Dad. Nick inherited genes that made him supernatural, it made him a Grimm. 

That’s why Dad never spoke of Nick, never left any real record of Nick’s birth. The fact that he was a Grimm could be used against him. Hunters have used Grimms until they were skin and bones to get the information, the insight that they wanted. They didn’t see Grimms being on their side. A Grimm was just another monster that needed to be put down. 

Sam understood why there were hardly any records of John Winchester being involved with any woman with the surname of Burkhardt. Dad cared about him whether or not he would ever see him again. He cared about all his kids, no matter where they were or what they were. 

A Grimm, a high school drop-out, a kid who had no clue about his heritage or even a kid who abandoned his family for his own dreams. Dad still cared enough to make sure each of them were hidden from the things that wanted them dead. Sam could respect that. 

He and Dean interfered only now and then when Nick got in too deep, but they never showed themselves to him. There wasn’t a reason to put another target on his back. He was family, whether they liked it or not and they weren’t going to leave him to the monsters.


	10. Group Week (American Idol AU starrng Teen Wolf characters)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I wish I knew enough about the process of this show to have expanded this because I have a feeling this could have been truly awesome.

Stiles first met Derek Hale during group week. He was the crabbiest fucker Stiles had ever met but once he broke through the shell and got to the meat of who Derek Hale really was they rocked group week. Okay they did more than rock group week, they were considered to be one of the top groups that performed all because Stiles took the time to figure out that Derek could really move an audience if you gave him the strongest lyrics of the song and let him do his thing. Stiles was cool with that. 

When they made it to the top twelve, well, Stiles was the only one willing to room with Derek. Derek was an awesome room mate who let Stiles gabber away at him all night while Derek strummed quietly on his guitar trying to get his song arrangements just right. 

Making it to the top five was an achievement Stiles never thought he’d make but here he was. He was stuck sitting on the couch with his fingers digging into the fabric waiting to find out the fate of Derek Hale who was in the bottom two. 

Ryan Seacrest was the meanest man to live on the planet because he drew it out as long as he could. “And the person leaving us tonight is…”

Stiles felt his heart stutter in his chest because he couldn’t hear over the crowd cheering. He looked straight at Derek trying to figure out if he still had a roomie or not and when Derek Hale actually smiled Stiles was out of his seat and tearing across the stage towards Derek. He probably cut off all the circulation in Derek’s body with how tightly he was holding on to him but he couldn’t help it. That fucking smile made his entire body flush with excitement and he was just so happy that Derek was staying. 

Of course the next week that was on their confessionals. Things you don’t know about your idols. Stiles was the only person who really talked about Derek besides the fact Derek was so quiet and Derek was the only person who could say something other than the fact that Stiles could talk a mile a minute.

“Derek’s probably the best roommate and friend a guy could ask for. Not because he’s quiet because he’s not. He isn’t really all that quiet when you know what you’re looking for. He’s a puzzle but one that is worth figuring out.”

“Stiles is different from the kind of people I’m used to and I’ve learned a lot from him. He laughs at just about anything, he can cook the greatest food even though the combinations of things he does doesn’t make any sense and he knows when any of us need someone to talk to or someone to listen to us. There’s a lot more to Stiles than what you guys get to see on stage.”

What the rest of the group said about both Stiles and Derek that wasn’t all that surprising. “If Stiles is somewhere, Derek will be too. They’re inseparable and they have their own language full of eyebrows, hand gestures and weird facial expressions.” 

That week Stiles was in the bottom two. Derek was sitting on the couch, his knee bouncing and his mouth hidden behind his hands as he stared straight at Stiles waiting for the results. Ryan Seacrest was still a bitch. 

“Well Stiles,” Ryan let out a sigh and both Stiles and Derek’s faces dropped. Derek was halfway to standing, the only female contestant left had her hand on his shoulder keeping him sitting as they kept waiting. Ryan grinned playing it up for the camera, “If Derek doesn’t respond like you did last week everyone is going to be disappointed. You’re safe!”

Derek was up off the couch and had Stiles in his arms faster than anyone could have imagined. Their mics caught the muffled thank god that Derek mumbled into Stiles’ neck just before the credits would roll. 

Top three was the hardest. Not only were they separated but Stiles's Dad knew something was up between the two of them and the cameras caught it on the home trips. 

And it got even worse when they had to choose a love song along with a song that reminded them of someone in their lives. Both Stiles and Derek’s confessionals were vague but the looks they got from the judges were enough to know they weren’t vague enough for people not to figure out who they were talking about. 

“I recently met someone and he showed me that no matter how bad the cards that life has dealt you, you can’t give up on what life allowed you to keep.” Stiles awkwardly rubbed at the back of his neck. “He taught me that all words in the world, sometimes it take one moment to show exactly what you mean and who you are. It’s the people you can show that to that really matter.”

Derek rubbed at his lips as he focused below the frame, “I never thought feeling something so strongly was possible after my family passed. I thought that this was all I had, my voice. This person showed me that there is so much more to life and you should never stop living because the people or person you loved have.”

Stiles was voted off that week and he never felt his heart break so quickly and so harshly. He watched past moments and almost all of them revolved around Derek. Them laughing and playing around in their free time. Even a few shots of them having fallen asleep propped up on one and other. 

“Is there anything you want to say to us Stiles?” Ryan prompted as he pushed the microphone towards Stiles. Stiles wiped at his eyes and looked straight at Derek. “I’m going to miss you so much.”

Ryan’s eyes widened as he took in where Stiles was focused before he saved the moment, “We’re going to miss you too Stiles but I can guarantee that this won’t be the last we see of you.”

Stiles smiled and shook his head looking at Ryan when he answered, “You couldn’t get completely rid of me. You’ll be seeing me that’s for sure.”

During the finale the audience finally got what they were craving, Stiles and Derek to sing a duet. It was the best that Stiles had seen Derek sing in a long time, better than he had sang the night before, and it felt like this was where they were meant to be. With each other. 

Derek was second runner up. It wasn’t all that surprising. In the confessional he was quiet and withdrawn. More so than the beginning of the season. When the winner was announced, Derek slipped from camera view and headed straight towards where Stiles had been seated and wrapped his arms around Stiles’ waist, his lips pressed against the warm skin at his neck. “Missed you.”


	11. Unknown Injuries (Supernatural)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brain injuries make it hard to tell the difference between what is real and what isn't.

“Hi Sam,” Lucifer perched on at the foot of Sam’s bed. His legs crossed and his fingers steepled beneath his chin. Sam pressed his thumb to the fragile skin of his palm. He could still feel the healing wound pulsing before he reverted to the trick Dean had taught him. Now it felt like bolts of fire were spreading out across his palm from how desperate he was getting to get rid of Lucifer.

It didn’t work though. Lucifer was still there. With inhuman grace he stood from the foot of the bed and moved towards the machines that were beeping and clicking in effort to ensure Sam’s life. Lucifer let his fingers dance along the IV line before tapping Sam’s arm lightly, “This is all so silly isn’t it?”

“You’re not real,” Sam swallowed, his eyes aching and his head hurt so badly he felt like he was going to vomit. “You’re not here.”

“But am I?” Lucifer clucked his tongue. Echoes of Sam’s name bounced off the stark white walls. Sam rubbed at his eyes and tried to focus on the wavering form of his worst nightmare. “I think we both know that I am. I think that we both know that the illusion your mind has built up in order to protect yourself from me is finally crumbling and you can’t do anything to stop it. Not anymore.”

“I’m in a hospital,” Sam croaked out. “I’m in a hospital and my brother is in that bed next to me.”

“Yeah?” Lucifer tilted his head almost as if he were challenging Sam. He backed up to the partition and flung it back. The bed was empty, sheets tightly folded along the mattress.

“Dean,” Sam whispered out.

“You ever wonder why you’re in a hospital of all places?” Lucifer flopped back on the empty bed with his hands folded over his chest. “I mean, has the thought never crossed your mind?”

“You’re not real.”

“Sam,” Lucifer drawled the name out before he smiled, “Sammy.”

“Don’t!” Sam flung an unsteady arm out, “You have no right.”

“Being the only resident in your grapefruit allows me to call you whatever I’d like.”

“I’m in a hospital,” Sam began to recite the mantra over and over in his head as he pressed his thumb even harder into his wounded palm. “This is not real.”

“Oh, back to the subject at hand. Why did your brain decided that a hospital was the ideal place for your protection? I mean I’m finally breaking you down and I’m finally understanding this,” Lucifer vaguely gestured around the room, “Every bad thing, well what you consider to be the worst things that have happened to you, happened in a hospital.”

“Shut up!”

“Your brother almost died in here, remember? First it was his heart – but you fixed that, didn’t you Sammy? Reapers I believe. Then there was the car accident. Oh I remember that one. It was quite the event outside of the cage. All Winchesters hanging on for life. All expect little Sammy. Dean was stuck in the in between for a bit. His soul just waiting to be stolen but he took care of that soon enough.”

“You’re not real,” Sam scratched at the IV in his arm and grimaced as he pulled it free.

Lucifer leaned close to Sam’s ear, his eyes angled towards the empty bed next to Sam’s, “Then how I did I do that?”

Sam looked across the room to where Lucifer was looking. His heart pounded in his chest as he watched Dean curl onto his side and his arms tighten around the pillow he was resting on. Almost as if he had been there the entire time. Sam’s eyes darted around the room searching out the devil himself but finding no one. His head was pounding heard enough he felt the need to vomit. He couldn’t focus on anything expect the blurry image of his brother – softly breathing in the bed next to him.


	12. Too Much Red (Hawaii Five-0)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Taken from a prompt in the comment_fic on Livejournal: Hawaii Five-0, Steve/Danny, Danny had seen blood before, plenty of times actually considering it was Steve... super SEAL and bad ass extraordinaire, but that amount of red really scared him

Danny pressed his hands heavy on Steve’s stomach while Steve lay still on the concrete below him. There was so much blood and no matter how thick the shirt was pressed in between Steve’s stomach and Danny’s hands it felt like it wasn’t enough to staunch any of the bleeding. 

He ignored the sound of gunfire and the splintering of crates around them. He didn’t care that they were barely behind cover and that he could be screwed if anyone had anything more powerful than a pistol. All he cared about was keeping pressure on the bullet wound in Steve’s stomach. 

“Medical on the way!”

The words were a blur in Danny’s mind. Help was coming, good. He needed to be sure that Steve was alive when help arrived. This wasn’t supposed to happen to Steve. Steve was super-SEAL, navy and all that. He never bled like this. It was just too much. 

“Hang on for me Steve.” Danny whispered, “They’re almost here and then you’ll be okay.”

When the paramedics arrived they swapped the dark, red-stained shirt that Danny had stripped off of his shoulders and used gauze instead. They had him belted onto the gurney and Danny ran side by side with them towards the ambulance. He was shut out of the truck, not enough room for them to work and Danny to be there too. He raced towards his car and after the ambulance with barely a look back. Everyone else was fine, bad guys in handcuffs or dead already. 

His hands and clothes were covered in blood when he burst through the doors of the emergency room. He ignored the shocked looks before he was directed to the operation waiting room. It wasn’t long after that he was led to the staff showers and handed a pair of scrubs to change into. The amount of blood that was circling the drain made Danny gag. It was too much to stomach. The water running red for far too long before it turned pink and then clear. 

Once he made it out one of the nurses came to check him over and ended up giving him a tetanus shot along with hooking him up to an IV for antibiotics and fluids. It probably took an hour for the IV to run out before the nurse was back to remove the needle and bandage his arm up. It took a lot more time before one of the nurses inside the operation came out. “Danny?”

Danny stood waiting for whatever news was to come. “Steve has you listed as his medical proxy and attorney of power?”

“Yeah.” Danny nearly choked on the word. It usually only meant something bad when someone mentioned someone having power of attorney in a hospital. 

She reached out to steady Danny, “He’s okay. We’re going to have him in the ICU for a couple of days because with any stomach wound it’s critical to keep an eye on the patient but he’s fine.”

The rest of the words were a mess of letters and sounds that didn’t make sense. It didn’t need to past the words of Steve being okay. That was all he needed to hear to calm the racing of his heart and the nausea in his stomach. 

“You can visit him for a few minutes if you would like.” She offered and Danny didn’t need to be told twice that he could see Steve. The room was abuzz with the noises coming from the machines that were hooked up to Steve. “It looks bad but he’s breathing on his own and he was able to talk and understand what we were saying for the few minutes he was awake after surgery. He’s going to be fine.”

Danny nodded even though he couldn’t quite believe that Steve made it through. He set a hand on Steve’s chest and let out a sigh of relief. It just felt good feeling Steve breath beneath the palm of his hand. It was going to be okay. As Danny was ushered out of the room and back towards the waiting room Danny reached out to stop the nurse, “I can stay as long as I need?”

“I’ll get you a blanket.” She answered before disappearing around the corner. Danny would wait as long as he needed to but now it was enough to know that Danny had made it.


	13. Another World (Sterek, Faceoff AU)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Teen Wolf (TV), Derek + Stiles or Stiles/Derek, Face Off AU Stiles is the winner and Derek’s his model
> 
> Prompted over at Comment-fic on Livejournal

Last Looks

Stiles huffed out a laugh at the look Derek was giving him. “Don’t give me that man. You know how I do.”

In perfect unison Derek and Stiles said together, “Go big or fuck off.” 

“So you going to let me slip you into this amazing piece of art or are we going to stare at each other for the next couple of hours?” Stiles asked as he guided Derek into his chair. Derek didn’t protest much after that. He lifted his arms above his head and let Stiles work the piece over his body to settle over his chest and took a deep breath before looking down. He knew he was going to be doing a performance piece. He was lucky enough that his background was in performing in elaborate make-ups and fabrications so he could finish this thing out with Stiles. 

He barely registered Stiles’ commands, he just followed them, tilting this way and that, closing his eyes, opening them to have Stiles put a set of contacts in. “Sorry man, those pretty blues can’t fuck up my make-up. I need some doped up pupils.” 

After that he listened to Stiles chatter on about what he was going to do if he didn’t win. Derek had no doubt that Stiles was going to win. Not only because he understand how to make the make-up, paint, cowls, face pieces for movement and so life-like but because he was consistently making up stories for what he was creating. Derek had learned a long time ago if there wasn’t a story behind the make-up then it wouldn’t go anywhere on camera. 

Stiles did the hard part every week. Hours upon hours of work. He only had a few sitting in the chair, listening to what Stiles thought and getting that across to the judges. It didn’t take much for Derek. This time he was going to do whatever he could to make sure Stiles took home the prize. 

“Are you alive in there?” Stiles poked at the nose piece and ducked down to make sure there was adequate enough room for Derek to breathe. 

“Fine.” 

“You’re never this quiet dude.” Stile commented as he worked at the edges a little more before setting up his paints. When Derek saw the brushes come out along with the air-brush Derek knew the effort Stiles had put into planning this one out.

“This is important, don’t want to mess up your concentration.”

Stiles huffed out a laugh as he grabbed a brush to start painting dark lines of veins along the corners of Derek’s eyes and mouth. “You sitting in my chair every week messes up my concentration. Graham over there is convinced we’re married.”

“What’s Laura saw over there?” Derek smirked and Stiles’ eyes lit up as if seeing the movement around Derek’s mouth was perfect. Derek could feel the excitement in Stiles growing.

“I think that if you two don’t get over the UST I’m going to have to lock you inside the green room to get it taken care of.” Laura fanned herself with a grin, “Of course there would have to be cameras in place because that would be hot.”

Stiles shook his head, his ears tipped pink with embarrassment but he kept on working. “Close your eyes for me?”

Derek followed instruction without hesitation and let Stiles work. After a few minutes Derek felt the tell-tale sign of Stiles shifting gears. “Stand up.”

Derek let out a groan, the pants he was wearing were tight but performance wouldn’t be a problem, they had just enough stretch to the denim. He let out a squawk when Stiles tugged them further down. Laura laughed manically at her work station and Graham’s model whistled through his teeth. Derek had to take a deep breath, having Stiles kneeling in front of him hand painting the bits of skin that had been covered. When stiles tugged them lower still Derek muffled a groan.

“These pants can’t go much lower.”

“Just making sure none of your delectable skin shows in performance, you’re pants are going to be a smidge higher than they are now. Remember, you’re supposed to be a form of Dracula. My version of Dracula is scary as hell but dangerously so because of how irresistible you look.”

“I’m supposed to be getting killed. Remember this.”

“That’s why your chest is a fucking mess dude.” Stiles nodded as he continued to work. He set a brush down before grabbing Derek’s hips and blowing on the skin in front of him before picking up his brush once more. “Shot, stabbed and staked. I got the memo.”

Derek glanced up at the clock and sighed. “Ten minutes man.”

Stiles double checked before pressing his lips together in a thin line, “You better not fuck up my make-up.”

“Promise.” Derek tapped on Stiles’ shoulder before handing over a note, “Don’t worry about it until later but don’t lose it.” Stiles quirked a brow at him but stuffed the note in his kit before finishing one last bit up.

The last few moments before stage everything was silent. Stiles didn’t have to tell Derek what he wanted done, Derek already knew what he needed to do and he was going to get it done. 

It was a ten minute epic of Dracula being hunted until his death. Derek was going to be strung up on wire so it would appear as he could fly. It was one of the things Stiles didn’t know about the performance. It was a test of Stiles’ knowledge and skill. As he flew across the stage, as his body twisted, turned and took a beating Stiles’ make-up stayed true. His pants slipped and thank god Stiles thought that far along because Derek saw that Laura hadn’t and Graham’s edge work was starting to come up under the pressure. The final blow surprised the hell out of Derek. A burst of blood exploded from his chest and he wondered how Stiles had managed to get that in and he didn’t notice it. The audience burst into applause and Derek knew Stiles had to have won.

He heard the judges talking about all of the artists as Derek and the other performers waited backstage and when Stiles’ name was called as the winner he was tapped to go out on stage and Stiles was shocked that his name had been called. 

Derek grinned, and without a care to the fake blood all over his chest wrapped Stiles up in a hug. Stiles laughed and held him as tightly as he could. “We did it!” 

It was a flurry of activity and Derek got lost in it as Stiles was engulfed in a group of his friends from back home. He needed to get after pictures taken so Stiles could have records of his work before getting out of his make-up. He just hoped that Stiles didn’t forget about his note. 

 

Three weeks later

 

Derek was reading his contract with the notes from his agent on them over for the next season of Face Off. He couldn’t stop thinking about Stiles and how he hadn’t gotten a text much less a call from the man. Maybe the flirting was all part of Stiles’ personality and he misinterpreted things. He just wasn’t sure if he wanted to go through another season of the show or not. He was debating the steady income versus scrounging for food when his doorbell rang. He glanced down at what he was wearing, sweat pants. He grabbed a hoodie off a barstool before answering the door. 

Stiles was standing there with a grin on his face, “I know I didn’t call or anything but I figured showing up in person would be better.”

“How did you find out where I live?”

Stiles shrugged, “I wasn’t kidding when I said my Dad was a Sheriff. I might have bribed him to get your address.” 

Derek shook his head in amusement, “So how are you feeling as a Face Off champion?”

“Great! I got a contract to work on a team for the new Burton production so you know, I must have been impressive. Vi gave an excellent recommendation apparently.” Stiles shrugged it as if it weren’t a big deal. Derek erased all notion of that and grabbed Stiles up in an excited hug. 

“That’s beyond awesome Stiles!” 

Stiles laughed loud, wrapping his arms tight around Derek, “So if you don’t have plans I thought maybe we could go out to dinner and talk outside of the studios.”

“I think that is an excellent idea.”


	14. Fingertips (Tony/Clint)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompted over at LJ by yuidirnt 
> 
> MCU, Tony/Clint, kissing each other's fingertips

There’s something about the way Tony holds his hands that makes Clint’s heart race in his chest. Tony holds his hands as if they were something precious and not a callused, trained set of weapons. It happens at the oddest of times. In the middle of Tony’s lab when he’s careening around a table to head back to one of his latest projects, he’ll stop in his tracks once he realizes that Clint is there. He’ll reach out to grasp one of Clint’s hands in his own before bringing the pads of Clint’s fingers to his lips. 

It never fails to cause Clint’s heart to skip a beat. 

The warmth of Tony’s lips against the callused skin his most important weapon reminds Clint of how precious being here really is. He can’t help the upwards curl of his lips or the warmth that spreads through his cheeks in response. He can’t ignore the way Tony’s face morphs from being lost in thought to a soft happiness that Clint only sees in the privacy of their rooms. 

The moment is always brief but Clint understands it for what Tony intends it to be. They’re still here. They are more than what their hands can do. They are more than an Avenger and a weapon. Beneath the armor they are human, they are important for more than their talents. It’s all the unspoken words that they aren’t sure how to say out loud. 

Instead of Tony grasping his hand, this time it’s Clint. Tony is elbows deep in machinery and hasn’t taken a break in hours. He waits until Tony reaches up to run a hand through his hair in thought. Clint reaches out to stop Tony from going back to work. He curls their fingers together and can’t help the smile that stretches across his lips. Tony looks up and the tips of his ears redden before he stands completely up to turn and face Clint. He brings their joined hands to rest over his heart. “To what do I owe the honor of your presence tonight?”

“I thought I might be able to convince you to finish up early.” Clint tapped the tips of his fingers against Tony’s before tugging him closer. Their bodies pressed against each other, knee to chest. 

“You’re doing a fantastic job on convincing me but you have a sure fire win in there.” Tony was about to finish the thought out but Clint’s lips against his fingertips, his wrist and then finally against the corner of his lips. 

“Let me convince you further.” Clint tugged him away from the machinery and through the halls. Their fingers still twined, holding tightly as if they were holding on for life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can now find me over on Tumblr!! dreaminginscarlet


	15. Vampires? (TW/Fright Night)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompted over at LJ Commentfic - “You got to be kidding me, right? Vampires? They don’t exist!”

“You got to be kidding me, right? Vampires? They don’t exist!” Stiles ran his hands through his hair, spinning himself in a circle before coming back to focus on the man standing in front of him. He was currently being held back by Scott and Derek. They looked to be struggling to manage their hold on the man who’s teeth looked sharp enough to filet Stiles. “I refuse to believe that you sir, are a vampire. I refuse.”

“You can refuse to believe all you’d like but that isn’t going to stop the fact that I am a vampire.” He answered.

“A vampire hunting our friend!” Scott snapped out with a growl.

“Hunting our friend?” Stiles repeated and narrowed his eyes. “Who were you hunting?”

“You.” He answered with a smug grin.

“Funny,” Stiles rolled his eyes as if to say pull the other. “So Mr. Vampire do you have a name?”

“Jerry.”

“Jerry?” Stiles repeated incredulously. “That’s all you could come up with? Jerry?”

“Well to be fair it wasn’t me who came up with the name, it was my mother. It’s not like you have much room to speak Stiles Stilinski.”

“Nope.” Stiles shook his head and held his hands up before backing up. “A vampire doesn’t hunt someone like me. A vampire doesn’t have a name like Jerry. You two can take care of this one without me.”

Derek rolled his eyes and Scott let out a groan. Stiles knew what that had meant. They had tried to take care of things without Stiles’ help. It just didn’t work, like it never does. Stiles could handle anything you threw at him. A vampire that was hunting him? That was where he drew the line.

Jerry titled his head, “They really can’t.”

“Why not?” Stiles challenged the vampire. It was stupid but Stiles didn’t get anywhere being safe. He almost regretted the words as soon as they left his mouth though. Jerry was free of the hold of two werewolves and his hands were on Stiles. One was at his waist and the other on his forehead pressing back to expose his neck. Stiles flinched at the feel of Jerry’s nose pressing along the column of his throat.

“I will get what I want. One way or another. You can be alive and breathing in one scenario. The other I wouldn’t recommend.” Jerry’s lips brushed against Stiles’ pulse point and Stiles couldn’t help the flutter that resulted from the action.

“Nope.” Stiles jerked back and grunted when Jerry’s grip kept him firmly in place. “This is just a really shitty dream.”

“Not a dream, Stiles.” Scott pointed out. “This is real life.”

The scratch of canine against Stiles’ neck reaffirmed that fact. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He was either going to make it out alive or in a body bag. Scott and Derek weren’t much help so it was up to him.

“What do I get if I let you get what you want? You know besides a little light-headed?” Stiles questioned as he gently placed his hands on Jerry’s waist as if not to startle a wild animal.

“I knew I liked you for some reason.” Jerry chuckled next to Stiles’ ear. His teeth nicked Stiles’ skin and with a quick swipe of tongue, Jerry pulled back with a happy hum. “But I won’t be taking tonight. No I think the hunt will be worth it.”

Stiles opened his mouth to object but Jerry was gone. He pressed a hand to his neck and it came back stained red with blood. This really happened. His eyes searched back and forth between Scott and Derek for some kind of answer but he wasn’t getting one from them.

“Vampires? Really?” Stiles stomped around the two wolves frozen to their spot. He turned back around and with a quick punch to both of their arms he finished with, “If I die I’m haunting you two. Worthless, the both of you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can now find me over at Tumblr now! Dreaminginscarlet


	16. Last Kiss (Chris Argent/Derek Hale) Deathfic!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompted over at LJ commentfic: The Last Kiss
> 
> There is CHARACTER DEATH in this drabble.

He’s heard people refer to it as the kiss of life. That’s not how he would remember it. Derek would remember Chris Argent’s mouth sealed tightly against his; sharing his oxygen before pumping his hands in a steady beat against his sternum differently. 

“Stay with me.” The words echoed in his mind. His body was fighting to heal, to gather the life he needed to continue breathing on his own. He could hear Chris cursing him as he continued to work. A deep breath blown into his mouth. The heavy pressure against his chest. 

Derek could hear the sounds of fighting coming closer. Scott growling, Allison’s arrows whistling through the air, Stiles’ grunt and thump of a bat slamming into a body, he heard it all. He heard the sound of a bullet being chambered and someone adjusting the grip on their gun.

Chris ignored the sounds though.

It was only a second. That’s all it took. Derek swallowed the startled breath that was pushed through his mouth. Chris was slumping over Derek. His eyes were already shining with the knowledge of what was to come. Derek couldn’t move. He could only watch.

It wasn’t a kiss of life. It was the last touch Chris would ever feel upon his lips.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can now find me over on Tumblr!!! Dreaminginscarlet


	17. A Right Arse - Luther (Luther/Ripley)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by a comment_fic prompt on livejournal, that I now can not locate otherwise I'd link it here. Basically, it went along the lines of an alternate universe with two professors have a reputation of hating each other in public but in secret they have a relationship.

John Luther was in the middle of his lecture outlining the use of physical evidence in serial murders with Justin Ripley started clapping. Luther couldn’t help the way his lip curled into a snarl. The entire lecture hall went silent. All the hands that had been raised slowly fell to the desks as students watched with open fascination at Doctor Luther’s reaction.

                The rivalry between Dr. John Luther and Professor Justin Ripley was infamous in the forensic studies department. The two couldn’t stand the sight of the other and any time their paths crossed their rivalry grew stronger and more heated. Dr. John Luther poached students to the physical evidence side of law, while Professor Ripley poached students to the psychological side. It grew into a competition throughout the semester. Which instructor could get the greatest amount of students to pass and continue taking their courses.

                Anytime they passed each other in the hallways there were heated looks sent over shoulders. It was as if they couldn’t stand the sight of the other. But having one intrude in the other’s class? That was a story that was waiting to be told.

                “You do know that solving serial murders isn’t _just_ about the physical evidence. Right?” Professor Ripley caught the eye of a few students as he made his way down the stairs and headed towards Dr. Luther.

                “Are you asking me, Ripley? Or perhaps you’re asking my students, who might I remind you, are in a physical forensic sciences class. Not any of that mental, mind castle shite you teach down the hall.” Dr. Luther folded his arms over his chest.

                “Shite?” Ripley took a step back. “I don’t think that it’s shite in consideration to serial murders.”

                Luther spotted a brave hand raise in the air before nodding permission. “It is a critical aspect of serial murders, it seems.”

                “See,” Ripley grinned. “Even the students agree with me.”

                “One,” Luther shook his head, “Do I come into your classroom to interrupt lectures? I don’t think so. Two, once again I’m pointing out your focus on getting into the mind of the killer. What I’m here today, trying to teach, is that the physical evidence allows investigators to know their killer.”

                “Kind of the same thing that I teach, wouldn’t you say?” Ripley smirked. “Don’t understand why they need a second course for it. It’s a bit redundant if you ask me.”

                “If we didn’t have a weapon,” Luther started as he paced back and forth in front of the white board. “Then would you know if it were a man or woman? Was it a rage killing or a crime of passion? Perhaps a copy-cat killing?”

                Luther looked out at his students waiting for them to answer, rather than having Professor Ripley answer.  When no one answered Luther groaned, “You lot are making me look like a right arse in front of this, soft sciences professor.”

                “Oh,” Ripley drawled. “I don’t think you need any help looking like an arse.”

                “The type of weapon tells the investigator a lot about the killer.” A girl in the front row spoke up and Luther’s eyes widened in anticipation. “If it were a gun, it was either a disconnected killing or a crime of passion. Also it lets us know if they are a trained professional, an amateur or someone who used the weapon during a crime of passion.”

                “Anyone have anything else to add to that?” Luther questioned.

                “Whatever the weapon there _is_ significance though.” Ripley replied. “The choice of weapon often allows investigators to see past traumas and how they influenced the killer. This leads us to possible victims, outcomes and a profile of who the killer is.”

                Luther sighed and professor Ripley grinned, “Are you finally going to give in and admit that my side of the law is just as important, or even more important than yours?”

                Luther tilted his head before shaking it. “I’ll give you that your side of the law is equally as important as mine. Without one, you really don’t have the other. Do you?”

                Ripley shrugged his shoulders, “I don’t know about that. Sometimes you don’t have a body, but only a note from the suspected killer.”

                Luther was about to respond when his watch alarmed. Luther rubbed a hand over his lips with a grimace. “Well, thanks to Professor Ripley you all have missed the opportunity for exam review. Now I’ve got to get across campus for a staff meeting. Remember, exam next class.”

                The entire class’s mouth dropped open but Luther went to his desk to pack up. He looked up to see all of the students still seated and he rolled his eyes. “You know what to study. You’re a bright bunch. Now go on, get out of my face. I see you lot more than I see my husband.”

                Luther waited as the class exited with light grumbles and Professor Ripley took the last few steps towards Luther. He stopped with the tips of his shoes pressed against Luther’s. “You see them more than you see me?”

                Luther tilted is head down and cupped Justin’s cheek in his hand. “If we aren’t teaching, we’re on case with the police.”

                “Well if you weren’t so smart,” Justin teased as he pressed his lips against Luther’s.

                “I’ve missed you.” Luther whispered against Justin’s lips.

                “I’ll be home tonight.” Justin answered. “Will you?”

                “We could skip the staff meeting.” Luther offered and Justin grinned. “I think you may have a plan Dr. Luther.”

                Luther grinned, “Get out of here before they see us leave together. Can’t have our reputation damaged.”

                Justin pressed a fast kiss to Luther’s lips before darting out of the student exit. Luther had just packed his side bag when a voice spoke up. “Dr. Luther?”

                Luther froze for a brief moment before turning to face the student who neither he nor Justin realized returned to the lecture hall.

                “If I tell the rest of them you shoved him out of the class while yelling at him, do you think I can get some extra credit on the next exam? I won’t tell anyone he’s your husband.”

                Luther couldn’t help the chuckle that escaped his lips. He grabbed a piece of paper from his bag and handed it over to the boy. It was the study guide he had intended to give to the class before Justin made an appearance. “See that you don’t.” 


	18. The Price - The Hunger Games (Katniss/Peeta)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spoilers for MOCKING JAY

There’s something people don’t tell you about peace; it comes at a price. The price isn’t something money can pay. No, the price comes in the intangible. Waking yourself up screaming from nightmares. The price is recalling the story behind each and every scar littering the body of your lover and your own. It comes from the moments certain sounds and smells send you spiraling back in time to a moment you couldn’t catch your breath, you couldn’t see because the smoke was so thick and your eardrums rang from the force of another sprung trap.

            Once you find peace, never let it go. Peeta hadn’t, wouldn’t let peace go. Not when he and Katniss lived a life they fought for in District 12. His heart beat with joy at the sight of every smile, every laugh and every kiss they shared. His hands covered in with earth, not from explosions but from cultivating the primroses in front of their home. Every letter with news of their friends warmed his chest and brought forth hope. Peeta held tightly to the peace they had found in the remains of District 12. They took the good with the bad but at the end of the night? Well, the good, it always left them smiling.


	19. Ten of Them - Teen Wolf/ Supernatural (Stiles + Bobby)

Stiles wasn’t sure how his Dad did it, but he found a ‘specialist’ who _knew_ about the things that the rest of the world didn’t know about. After the Nogitsune he didn’t think there would be anyone he could talk to about what it felt like to have his body, his soul, stolen from his control. Sometimes they make trips out to North Dakota so Stiles can actually speak with Singer. Other times he relays a message through a woman named Ellen Harvelle and usually Bobby calls within a day. He’ll call back within an hour if Ellen says, “It sounds like they’re nipping at your boots, kid.” Most of the time he’d say back, “They’re already got my boots in their teeth.”

                “Stilinksi.” Bobby’s voice was rougher than usual but these were the times that Stiles knew not to ask questions and to be thankful that someone cared enough to listen to him and understood what he was feeling.

                “Hey Bobby.” Stiles was sitting with his back pressed against his bedroom wall with his knees tucked to his chest. His voice was muffled from where he hid his face in his knees.

                “You expecting me to ask or you going to talk? I got plenty of things I could be doing.”

                “I can’t tell if I’m really here or if this is just another dream.” Stiles admitted after a few minutes filled with the sounds of their breaths.

                “You count your fingers?” Bobby questioned.

                “Ten of them.” Stiles answered automatically before forcing himself to stop and count them. His eyes traveled along the bookshelves and took a deep breath. “I can read the titles of the books on my bookshelves too. I just…”

                “Feel like you’re not one hundred percent you in that meat suit of yours?”

                Stiles chuckled, only Bobby could say something like that and he’d understand the point that the man was trying to get across. “When I go to sleep it gets worse. This morning when I woke up? I remembered, actually remembered what it felt like when he took control of me.”

“Shit, kid.” Bobby whispered. Stiles could hear Bobby getting up from wherever he was before the muffled tones of someone else came through the phone and a door opened and shut firmly. “Talk to me, kid.”

“At first it hurt and I fought it. I fought so hard. There were times that I thought I was close to dying because of how hard I was fighting. Scott says there were times when he knew it was _me_. Looking back, when I got through I tried to warn them. I tried to show them that it wasn’t me in there. But no one believed that something could be so attracted to the power I had, it couldn’t be me. Not me. No one believed in me. When I heard those words from Derek, from everyone else? That’s when I felt my wings clipped. I was lost. One hundred percent lost to the Nogitsune and there was no coming back. I’m still not back, you know?”

Bobby sighed into the receiver of the phone before he said anything. “I was possessed, not by something nearly as powerful as what you were possessed by, but I know what it feels like to fight and lose that fight. One of my boys, both of em’ actually, went through something similar. You ain’t ever going to feel right again. No matter how hard you work and how far you go, this isn’t something that leaves you. Never. A door has been opened and it ain’t ever going to shut. There is one thing that you and I will always do. We fight, we keep pushing and we protect our family.”

Stiles tried to digest what Bobby told him and find something to say but he was at a loss.

“Your wings weren’t clipped, kid.” Bobby finally answered. “They might have been tied and bound for a little while but they weren’t clipped. You aren’t finished here and there are a lot more that you’re going to do. I got a friend who has a set of wings himself and if he’s heard about the things you can do, I know you’re bound to get into more trouble and do more good for the world than you think is possible. Just don’t stop fighting, kid. “

Stiles huffed out a breath, “I can’t. Someone has to save their sorry asses.”

Bobby let out a loud laugh, “Ain’t that the truth.”

 


End file.
